I think in almost every family the first grandchild dictates the Official Naming of the Grandparents. On Jackson's paternal side the naming was dictated by now 4-year-old Davis - and thus Nonnie and Papaw were born.
On my side, Jackson is still working on it.
My mother considered Gram for her name and my father requested Granddaddy.
You can put in a request, but sometimes the DJ just doesn't want to play your song.
Upon each visit with my parents, we faithfully use the labels Gram and Granddaddy. I am also loyal to their requests when reviewing photos with Jackson.
"That's you and Gram," I say.
"There's your Granddaddy," I point out.
During our most recent trip - for Christmas - the Official Naming of the Grandparents' opening ceremonies began.
Like any child, Jackson has his verbal moments where he suddenly has agreed to do all his tricks and perform for the crowd.
(Fortunately, these moments are bountiful with our little lion.)
While the window is open, I prod for more words.
"Can you say Gram?" I request.
"Mam," he says. Clear as the cuckoo clock he has fallen in love with.
"Who is that?" I ask, pointing to Gram.
"Mam," he says, very sure of himself.
And thus the birth of Mam. And peace reigned throughout the land.
This is a good name for his maternal grandmother. It is fitting, a bit southern, sweet, and I can see how his developing mind created the loving name.
When asked to knight his maternal grandfather, things went a bit differently.
"Where's Granddaddy?" I ask and he points to my father.
"Can you say Granddaddy?"
"Can you say Granddaddy? ... Say Granddaddy."
"BA-BOO!" he shouts.